Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“And you wanted to?”
“Yeah.”
Moretti shook his head. “I really don’t understand this.”
I tried to explain it without betraying her feelings. “She was thinking ahead.”
“Ahead to what?” Beckett asked.
“Ahead to how she’ll feel once it was over,” I said, thinking that of all my friends, Beckett would probably understand the situation best. He was the quietest one in our foursome, but definitely the deepest thinker. We joked that he was probably the only cowboy in existence that had an MBA.
From fucking Yale.
But Moretti jumped in. “She’d feel fucking great, because you’d give her at least two orgasms—you do remember how to do that, right?”
Beckett laughed, and I rolled my eyes. “Yes, asshole.”
“So what’s the problem? Why is she able to think beyond orgasms in your hotel room?” Moretti shook his head. “Maybe you’re not doing it right.”
“Will you fuck off? It’s not just about that with us. There are other things involved.”
“Like what?” Beckett asked.
“Like feelings.”
“Oh. Well.” Moretti sat back, like he was giving up. “Feelings. You didn’t mention those before.”
“Yes, I did,” I said defensively. “I told you she didn’t want just a one-night stand.”
“I meant your feelings. You didn’t mention those when you said you wanted to bang Cheyenne.”
“I never said it like that,” I snapped. “And you guys better not say anything to Griffin about this.”
“Griffin isn’t an idiot, Cole. He can see the way you look at her—everyone can.” Moretti appealed to Beckett. “Am I right?”
“He’s right,” Beckett confirmed. “My dad saw you guys at dinner last night and asked me when you’d gotten married.”
That almost made me smile.
“And Griffin’s okay with it,” Moretti went on. “The question is, why aren’t you okay with it?”
I leaned back, grumpy and confused. “I don’t know. What if I fuck it up? Or what if things just go wrong, the way they always do, and we’ll all end up worse off than we are now?”
“You could definitely fuck it up,” Moretti agreed casually, taking another sip of his coffee. “And sure, things can always go wrong.”
I looked at him incredulously. “Is this supposed to be a pep talk?”
“Yes. But no sense ignoring the obvious. Relationships are hard. They’re risky. There’s a reason why I prefer to play it safe.”
“I thought you had a girlfriend,” said Beckett.
“Still safe,” Moretti insisted. “Because it’s more of an arranged thing. I don’t have the feelings Cole has.”
Exhaling, I shook my head. “I don’t know what to do. My head says one thing, my gut says another.”
“What about your—”
“Don’t ask,” I said, noticing Griffin walking down the staircase. “You know what my dick says.”
Moretti looked offended. “I was going to say your heart.” He took a drink of his coffee. “You’re such an asshole. I’m glad we’re not a couple anymore.”
Beckett choked on his coffee. “What?”
“Long story,” I told him. Then I turned the tables on Moretti. “So what happened with Bianca last night?”
He frowned. “It was a real struggle, I tell you. I ordered her a holy water martini garnished with garlic on a crucifix, and I still couldn’t exorcise the demon.”
Laughing, I stood up as Griffin reached the bottom of the stairs and headed our way. “Well, keep trying,” I said. “And thanks for the advice—I think.”
After we finished up at the barber shop, we came back to the inn and grabbed a quick lunch at the restaurant. Afterward, I went back to my room and checked in with my mom, who was chaperoning Mariah in something called the “bridal suite,” where all the girls were getting ready. I felt bad that I hadn’t spent more time with her over the last couple days, but I also knew she was having the time of her life being included in almost everything the wedding party did.
My text to my mom went unanswered for a few minutes, and then it buzzed.
Mom: Hey, it’s Cheyenne. Your mom handed me her phone because she decided to get her makeup done at the last minute. One of the artists had time.
At the sight of her name, my stomach muscles clenched.
Me: No problem, I was just checking on Mariah.
The next text came from Cheyenne’s number.
Cheyenne: She’s great. Dress is on, and she’s perched like a princess on a throne in one of the salon chairs getting her hair curled.
Me: Sounds good. Thanks for including her the last couple days. She’s in heaven.
Cheyenne: We love her. You guys doing okay? Griff holding up?
Me: Griffin seems cool and calm.
As opposed to me, who felt so uneasy you’d have thought I was the groom instead of the best man. None of this casual shit was what I really wanted to say to her.
Cheyenne: Blair is surprisingly calm too.
Me: I think all the nerves are mine.
Cheyenne: The toast?
I thought for a moment, then decided it was best to blame all my anxiety on the toast—at least for now.